


one question remains..

by MonroseMeadows



Category: Watch_Dogs
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-24
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-05-13 09:47:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 18,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14746512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MonroseMeadows/pseuds/MonroseMeadows
Summary: *DISCONTINUED*As he lay there, his body temperature dropping ever so slightly with each passing 30-minute mark on the clock, and his hands clutching the thin layer of fabric, attempting to pass off for a blanket of the sorts, the symphonies played by the outside world surrounding the motel room windows, took a backseat to the drumming sound of his father's stern voice breaking through each and every barrier he ever managed to set up with utmost care. Nature continued tapping at the windows, almost as if it tried to keep him within the realm of reality, rather than to allow this man to lose himself to his own demons once more. Proven to be in vain, and the more his father's voice increased in volume, the lower the sounds of nature resonated within his mind. And in this slow pace, Aiden lost himself in a soft slumber. His body trembling slightly under the poor excuse for a cover, and his eyes moving rapidly under closed eyelids. He re-entered a state of helplessness, trading shoes with a younger version of himself. A past life called upon and reviewed through the eyes of a young child, at the verge of tears.





	1. a rat does leave its hole..

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: I am very European, and though my English is generally OK, no-one is above making the occasional error. And thus, spelling- and grammatical errors can and probably have a likelihood of appearing throughout my works. I always try to proof-read before I upload, but even the faintest of mistakes can slip past my radar. With that out of the way, lets move on.
> 
> History: Remember two and a half weeks ago, when I absolutely fell in love with Aiden Pearce? Don't get me wrong --Aiden is still cute as a button and he should be protected.
> 
> Extra: I tend to analyze certain characters I want to use in my works of fiction, before I actually sit down to write. The obvious reason being to maintain the realism in my representation of said character. I'm one of those people who gets easily annoyed by continuity errors and seeing characters act .. well, uncharacteristic. So, to combat my perfectionism while suffering from this, I try my best to learn as much as I can about a character's mannerisms, their style of speech, and their view on the world. It is not an easy thing to do, however, it's the least I can do to calm my own self-criticism. I hope I did Aiden some justice.. Love me, Aiden! - that was a joke, not really, yes it was, noitwasnt, kthanksbye.

"You always fail to see the bigger picture, my man."

Cerulean eyes followed an older man's frame as it slowly limped its way toward the kitchen table. The wooden table leaf probably mildly heated under the laptop's surface, along with the half-empty glass beer bottle that balanced dangerously close to both the table's edge and said laptop's exposed keyboard. Muffled conversations seeping in through the slightly opened window aside, the small motel room's walls used as borders for minuscule vibrations and sound waves, coming from the machinery, to bounces off of and repeat its course endlessly. The soft hum of a computer or laptop, combined with the buzzing whimpers of a half-burnt and cheaply constructed UV lamp, always brought a wave of serenity over him. Monotone in nature, yet impossible to commune with.

"That's because there never is a bigger picture, Damien.With you, I'm stuck to either viewing things through black or white. There is never an in-between."

Laughter, died down to but a mere growl. And that growl shattered into a desperate attempt at catching one's breath, which eventually ended up filling the room with a low-bass wheeze. One of the disgusting kind, involving a mouthful of saliva and a trembling hand reaching out for the manubrium or stemum, since it covers more of the torso's surface. He got up from the chair, and made his way over to the small opened window behind the kitchen table. A handful of children occupied the small, dimly lit alleyway, a dirt-ridden ball almost glued to their small sneakers. The white skin discolored due to the dirt it had picked up over the years, and torn at random locations on its shape. Yet it served its purpose, it did what it was intended to do, and that seemed to be what mattered to those young minds.

"I'm not too fond of the color gray, Aiden. There's a wide spectrum of shades within the realm of the color gray, boy. There are no easy routes, surely, I shouldn't have to be the one to tell you that."

Gray eyes trailed up to find a cerulean pair. "You are a smart kid, Pearce. We both know that, don't we? I should, however, tell you that running that smart mouth of yours, will get you nowhere good."

Damien shuffled toward the kitchen table, where he seated himself before the laptop's monitor. His trembling hand reached over to the bottle, only to violently toss it toward the nearest wall within his reach. The dark colored remnants of glass, shattered onto the discolored wallpaper that had come loose in random patches, and what had remained within the bottle's confines, now dripping down the wall's surface, and soaking into the cheaply woven, knock off branded carpet fabric. The older man's eyes found Aiden's, and instantly his expression morphed into that of an unknown kind. He nodded firmly, once, letting his gaze wander on as the motions of his head came to a sudden stop, and his gaze was now fixed on the abrupt ending of growing lines of code on the screen.

"This, my boy. This .. Is what we all do it for, isn't it?" Damien leaned in closer to the laptop's screen, his nose nearly pressed against the small layer of plastic. "We risk life and limb for strings of code. Software that tells a story. A story that we must have in our possession to ensure a day will be added to our miserable lives." The man retrieved the small USB-cable from the laptop's port, and rolled it around the curves of his palm, all the while keeping a firm look on Aiden's shift in facial expressions, and handed him a small hard drive.

"Take this and deliver it to our client." Once both men stood face to face, did Aiden find it necessary to lock eyes. Damien was nothing more than the embodiment of his very own hipocracy. Gray holds a spectrum of shades unbeknownst - The very shades of gray that hid within his very own irises.

Talk about a wolf's in sheep's clothing and you'd have yourself a safe bet that eventually you'd end up with bite marks in your soft ass cheeks. And the worst part is, you saw it coming all along. You might've even prepared yourself in advance, and still .. It will catch you off guard. It was only a matter of time.. Time Aiden had in abundance, but that he wasn't willing to waste on 3 kinds of betrayal, that would surely leave him with a bitter aftertaste in his mouth, upon discovery. Yet .. He needed these jobs. As much as his gut went against his mind, emotion won't win a fight against human nature's instinct to feed. Survival is hardwired into our brains, much like a computer is hardwired to execute commands until the plug is pulled. Machines and humanity don't differ that much in the end.. A machine does as it is told, much like a human. The difference being, a machine can, to some extent, detect a threat, even before it is put in motion, and act accordingly. With humans on the other end.. Emotions and morals place themselves neatly in front of that threat, and what we as humans are left with is ... Misery. And debt, a shit ton of debt to wipe your sleeves on, because it isn't likely to remove the holes and stains out of that sweater you are forced to wear for the last 3 months - in between chasing cheap motel rooms and working your ass off to stay off the grid, a single moment of serenity isn't granted when a wolf like Damien Brenks breathes down your neck.

"I'm taking your car. Those Fixers didn't exactly play nice during my last relocation."

A small smile, and a resting hand on Aiden's shoulder. "Your tiny paws go nowhere near my car, you hear me? Now be the good boy, that I know you are, and do your damn job. Don't make me break out the baton, now."

Aiden cringed his nose at the smell of alcohol lingering on the older man's breath, and took a step back. He watched as Damien walked over to the bed, and let himself fall face first into the stained pillow - then shook his head. The flow of data signaled its end, and when Aiden moved over to the laptop, he noticed the missing transfer percentage on the top corner of the screen, causing him to view the hard drive that was pushed into his hand by Damien.

Of course..

Aiden grabbed his coat and cap and made his way down the stairs that led down to the motel parking lot. It made sense for Brenks to hold back some of the data for the transfer, you could never be too careful with these types of trade-offs, yet... This time it made very little sense. The data was previously sold, and reclaimed by its original owner, and the server it was hosted on was, naturally, taken down without hesitation. Which meant that upon its repossession, its owner had to host a new server, and lock it, as its main purpose was so it could maintain and hold the data. New walls and software. Aiden pulled out his phone, his green eyes scanning the crowded parking lot, before choosing a small car to the right of the exit, closest to the highway. Once the engine sprung to life under his feet, and it roared sweet nothings into the grey-hat hacker's ears, Aiden made his way onto the main rode in a hurry.

He must've kept a connection to the original ware.. My guess would be so he could trace its new location, hack surveillance to get into the new servers. But why? Why would Damien sell data that he plans on retrieving anyway? That's like giving a baby a piece of candy, only to take it away immediately after.. What angle is he working on this time?

\- -

"You knew all along!"

A swift kick with a booted foot sent the kitchen table flying, alongside with its contents, including Damien's priced little laptop. In a grunting manner, the man in question prepped himself in the bed, sleep drunken eyes scanning their surrounding for a split second, before locating the mark of hell displayed all over the Irish hacker's stubbled face. The older man ran a hand through his thinning dark locks, before sliding both legs down the edge of the bed, in an attempt to find balance, he gripped the nightstand with both hands. His breathing ragged and uneven. There was no rhythm to be detected, and in the amount of time it took the man to catch his breath and regain his posture, Aiden had moved in closer and kicked the gun off of the nightstand, with force. He managed to evade an invading elbow to the nose, when the sound of their breathing got overthrown by the sounds of small fragments of metal bouncing off of iron. Both men locked eyes for a brief moment, before taking cover instantly.

"You allowed them to track you all the way back here?!" Damien growled, resting an arm on his restrained leg. The crouched position he had forced himself into, proving to be straining the brace, and thus his injured leg. Aiden pushed whatever emotion that resembled a form of hatred or anger to the back of his mind, then crouched over to his employer, pulling him down into a sitting position, stretching the man's legs out in front of him. "You could've told me you were tracking the data! Whatever you think you were doing, you did it in such a sloppy way, it took them literal seconds to find out! Why do you always get me involved into these games of yours, Brenks?!"

The older man opened his mouth to speak, but was rather quickly silenced by a bullet breaching the window,and sending the glass particles all over the kitchen floor. Pissed or not, he had to get the both of them out of there. Aiden scanned the area, Damien's laptop hadn't survived its earlier fall, so whatever was tracking on that connection, had now come to a deserved end. "Turn off your phone, they are tracking us via the connections to CTOS towers." Both men stayed still for what seemed minutes after the gunshots seemed to have died down, and with the sound of car tires screeching over the asphalt in the distance, Aiden slid down the wall with his back, now breathing out a sigh of relief.

"My new laptop is coming off of your next paycheck." Damien mumbled, his hands ghosting over the brace around his leg, in what looked like a repositioning of the metals around the pant-leg of his dark trousers. Still breathing rather raggedly, Aiden's eyes slid toward the older man, his brows furrowed. "You should thank my little outburst for killing off the tracking. If it hadn't died, they would've followed its location all the way up here."

"Argh, kiddo.. " Damien growled lowly, struggling to get back on his feet. "This was just a warning. If they wanted to kill us, they would've."

Aiden watched the man as he limped over towards the remnants of his laptop, and rolled his eyes as he watched the man pick up the broken pieces. "I can't believe you.. I really, fucking, can't.."


	2. the end of silence..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have a clear direction I want to take this work in .. I do hope you are still enjoying it thus far.

Rain tapping gently on the windows, playing a soothing medley alongside the strong breaths mother nature exhaled. Faintly registered by a set of ears, though not cared about enough to motivate movement under the thin layer of fabric shielding a mesomorphic figure from the outside world - or so, he liked to tell himself, as to ease his mind into a slow state of transparent-slumber. A state of mind he has perfected over the years, that allowed him to catch up on some much needed sleep, all the while keeping his senses on high alert during. Nothing would go past him, no sound or movement would go by unnoticed or undetected - of that he was well aware.

As he lay there, his body temperature dropping ever so slightly with each passing 30-minute mark on the clock, and his hands clutching the thin layer of fabric, attempting to pass off for a blanket of the sorts, the symphonies played by the outside world surrounding the motel room windows, took a backseat to the drumming sound of his father's stern voice breaking through each and every barrier he ever managed to set up with utmost care. Nature continued tapping at the windows, almost as if it tried to keep him within the realm of reality, rather than to allow this man to lose himself to his own demons once more. Proven to be in vain, and the more his father's voice increased in volume, the lower the sounds of nature resonated within his mind. And in this slow pace, Aiden lost himself in a soft slumber. His body trembling slightly under the poor excuse for a cover, and his eyes moving rapidly under closed eyelids. He re-entered a state of helplessness, trading shoes with a younger version of himself. A past life called upon and reviewed through the eyes of a young child, at the verge of tears.

Vibrations moved themselves throughout the thin fabric of the mattress, traveling the small distance between its source and the pillow the man's head rested on. His mind breaking apart the image of an enraged man moving in closer, to abruptly tear him out of that vision, and return him to the cold touch of reality on his cheek, upon finding his phone positioned right next to the pillow, and mere inches away from the tip of his nose. Reality wrapped her thin arms around his fully grown, adult body, urging him to accept the shift in realities and answer reality's call now. A grunt escaped his parted lips, as the man reached over to the small device and placed it up to the shell of his ear. Any voice would trouble him at this point, but he knew better than to allow himself a moment of solitude longer than the duration of a simple worker's day shift. And to no surprise, reality enjoyed the slow torture she inflicted upon him in small doses, over an extended period of time.

"Pearce? Good, you're still awake."

"What is it, Damien?" Aiden tried his best to hide the broken tone that had wrapped itself around his voice, but as good as he had become at masking any emotion, the exterior of a particular shell is only as hard as the threats it was designed to protect against. And sooner or later, it will find itself taking in damage from an unknown threat, and unbeknownst to its knowledge, it will have no more methods of defense, and it will start to show minor cracks. Cracks, that can only take so much more of that damage, before it breaks completely, and exposes a weak interior.

\- Damien stayed still for a moment, indicating that the man had caught up on the subtle signal sent to him, unwillingly, yet .. very clear at the same time. Aiden heard a 'plop', followed up by saliva going down to ensure a safe travel to the man's stomach. Damien was drinking again, but .. he didn't sound drunk. Yet..

"I just wanted to check up on you. See if you are still alive, I haven't heard from you in weeks."

Aiden pursed his lips, and pressed the side of his face deeper into the pillow. The covers might not do much to keep his body from feeling the uncomfortable reaction to temperature drops, but at least the pillow was rather soft. Soft and cozy enough for him to find some form of comfort. In a way, Damien's masked concern came as a pleasant wave of surprise to him, but he knew better than to relish in it, as it was surely to last far too shortly to actually gain anything from it. But it was nice nonetheless, to experience this short moment of caring. It brought a short moment of warmth to this shivering body. Despite the rough relationship between himself and Damien, Aiden knew that Damien would never inflict any harm to him directly. He might be a treacherous rat, reeking of the foul stench of betrayal, but even if he wanted Aiden dead, he'd be damned to lay a finger on him, himself. There was a weird dynamic between the two men, hard to explain and even harder to try to comprehend. But it had worked thus far, and Aiden was happy enough with the situation as it is.

"You haven't had any jobs for me, that's why. I didn't know you were the type of guy that expects his employees to ask him out for a beer on the weekends."

A snicker. Sarcasm had never failed to serve as a hard exterior shell, Aiden had to admit. And Damien Brenks was one to enjoy these smart-ass remarks from him. He might say otherwise, but Aiden knew Damien better than the man thought he did. At least he got a positive reaction out of that, the last thing he wanted to deal with right now, was a sassy and butt-hurt Damien Brenks, insisting on calling shots on each other over the phone for hours on end. To be honest, Aiden's head felt too heavy and clouded to even engage in a conversation with any depth, at the moment. Reality might have pulled him out of his dreams swiftly, but his brain had yet to fully adjust. On the other end of the line, Damien took another gulp of beer, savoring the taste on his tongue for a bit, before swallowing and clearing his throat.

"Listen, kid.. I have a little.. eh, call it, surprise, for you. I am most certain you will like it."

Aiden wanted nothing more than to interrupt, yet he failed to find the motivation to do so. He was tired, simply dead tired. Whatever surprise Damien had in store for him, it couldn't be worse than another attempt at sneaking him into a strip club in downtown Chicago. He still hadn't fully recovered from that experience, and his attemps at trying to explain to Damien he had no interest in such matters, proved to be futile - as Damien only hears what he wants to hear, half of the times. The man is much like a rebellious teenager, in that regard. In one ear, out the other, as they often say.

"I know you like to work alone, and I respect that. In that department, you and I, are very much the same. If you work alone, ain't nobody gonna fuck up and cause you to absorb a pallet of bullets, amirite? No, no .. I get that, I know you, kid. I learned that much about you. But.. I might have someone that could assist you from afar."

"Obviously you don't know me that well then." Aiden retorted bluntly. His voice void of emotion, and the lack thereof did not go unnoticed by the older man, who was now pursing his lips with a stern gaze fixed on the bottle in his hand.

"No, I do. This guy, Jordi Chin, weird fucker. But, in a good way, you know? Fixer for hire, but .. I'll have you guys .. link contracts. See it is a .. business of doing each other plenty of solids. He helps you, you help him - kinda gig, you understand? Trust me, I'm sure you'll appreciate whatever it is he can contribute. And uh .."

Damien paused for a moment, then let out a nervous chuckle. "Get you out of your shell, kid. You're too much to yourself, you're gonna lose your mind if you keep that up. Nothing wrong with a bit of solitude, but .. You need to get out there, every once in a while too, you know? Jordi is good at making small talk, he'll get you right out of that bolster of yours. I'll text him your number, and .. I'll leave it to you whether you take his help or not, alright, kid?"

A low grunt. That's all that came in response.

"I'm losing ya, aren't I? Haha, well, that's alright. You try to get some rest, Pearce. I want my men in top condition in the event something pops up. Sweet dreams, doll face."

A click, and silence had returned to the room. Silence, that quickly made room for the return of gentle taps on the window by mother nature. A never ending cycle of endings and beginnings, and all of those, within the span of mere hours. Jordi Chin .. He did not have the motivation to give it much more thought, instead he let his eyes flutter shut, and carefully listened to the sound of raindrops on the motel room window. Rhythmic, calm, soothing..


	3. a gust of fresh air..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm at a loss when it comes to analyzing Jordi Chin .. he's quite the .. phenomenon.   
> I do hope I put him down somewhat relatable in the chapter, if not, please do shares your wisdowm and knowledge  
> on the Jordi Chin mannerisms! I'd love to shape and mold my representation of Jordi into something that covers more recognizable grounds, if you know what I mean .. *sigh* Perfectionism, it hurts..

11AM. He had slept longer than anticipated nor intended. The streets below the windows, lively with conversations held by passersby. The rain that had colored the gloomy night before, washed away and dried up by the relentless warmth of the sun. Aiden prepped himself up with one arm, whilst checking his phone with the other. The conversation held with Damien the night prior still fresh in his memory, and now he found himself in a newfound state of wonder. He had every reason imaginable to question Damien's intentions, but a part of him was familiar with that seldom seen side of him. They were scarce, moments wherein the fatherly figure emerged - and though the possibility of it ringing true sounded ridiculous in spoken form, the man seemed to have found a recognizable face within Aiden's. A familiar story within his form. Even though it could be easily explained as a case of 'what was lost, is now found within the next best thing', Damien had been nothing short of a thin line away from an actual father figure to Aiden. After all, it was Damien Brenks who found a mortified Aiden Pearce hiding in his Ford, back in the day. In between arranging his divorce, and the settlements for custody over his son, Marcus, humanity was still very much present within the man. Surprised to find the teen had hacked his way into his vehicle, yes, but fascinated with his level of skill, as well.

It didn't take long for the both of them to find a mutual interest in the skill of hacking, finding beauty within the index of machines, and easily being entranced by the flow and connection of software and its programmed coding. Damien had taught him the ropes, all but the handful of tricks he liked to keep up his very own sleeve. And in return for his care, Aiden found no error in helping the man out with a few easy fixer jobs here and there. Then it all went south.. Aiden remembered it so clearly, and he knew it was an improbability for it to leave his memory..

A job that required entering CTOS grounds. Damien was well aware of the risks, but decided against his better judgment to accept it. He should have known better, the pouring rain that night, should've been a dead give away. Mother nature leaves nothing up to coincidence, and when she drops subtle hints, you better be aware and awake to pick them up. The area was heavily secured, and guards surrounded each and every corner around the entrance points. There was no easy way in, and even through his impressive hacking skills, getting into the cameras would only take minutes for the system to trace an intrusion, and activate the communication around the perimeter. Once the system went on high alert, it would track any foreign devices, and their corresponding signals. And there was no escaping that trace..

Damien found himself cornered within his own stupidity and errors. And unlike Aiden, Damien was not one to keep his head cool during a moment of stress. The half-assed attempt at exiting the area, resulted in multiple guards opening fire. Despite the burning pain in his legs, Brenks did manage to get in his car and lose any traffic, he knew damn well this wouldn't end well for him. Aiden hadn't heard from the man in 2 days at that point, and any attempts at trying to locate his signal, resulted in an immediate shutdown of his tracker. A forced reset, which could mean two things. Damien's phone had been destroyed and the servers was performing a loop of re-routing, that resulted in a constant build-up and breakdown of code sequences in securing the server it was on, or Damien had actively wall'd his device. And going by what he knew about the man thus far, Aiden was inclined to hold the latter as the more plausible of the two.

By the time Damien returned to his apartment, his leg was covered by a metallic brace, and his demeanor had changed permanently. He had grown bitter, and reached for the bottle whenever he felt like he was losing his grasp on reality. It only continued spiraling out of control when court had favored his ex-wife over him to gain custody over Marcus. And Aiden understood.. he did. But found it hard to simply watch as Damien slowly turned into .. what he is today. "If they take everything from me, I can take everything from them.' That was his reasoning thus fort..

A vibration up against his hip, snapped Aiden out of his thoughts, and with a swift hand motion, he had brought the phone up to his ear. "Damien?"

No such luck. The voice that greeted him sounded softer in nature, more .. laid back and casual. Yet elegant and well spoken, at the same time. It was foreign to Aiden's ears, since he had grown quite accustomed to deep voices, laced with anger and hatred, spit and snarl at him. The usual condescending bullshit, the threats, the name-calling, and the abrupt cut-off before any smart-ass remark could be given. No, this voice, was a welcomed change of pace. That's when it clicked in Aiden's mind, and he walked over to the window, to be met with a view of the lively street below. Citizens going through the motions, unaware of what was really taking place in the shadows of the night. Blissfully unaware ..

"Not exactly, I would say I'm an improvement, to say the least. The name is Jordi. You must be Aiden Pearce."

 

"What exactly is Damien's plan?"

"He told me you could use a friend. Granted, I'm not too sure whether I'm that good of friendship material, but hey, if it improves working conditions, I'm all for, baby."

Aiden's breath hitched for a moment, and he tried to regain his posture. This man's casual laughter.. There were no insults thrown in at random moments, for seemingly no reason at all. He hid pleasure in his tone of voice, as if .. he genuinely enjoyed making small talk over the phone. And it all seemed so surreal to Aiden, that he caught himself sitting down on the bed. A gentle voice ..

"Buddy, you still with me? Aw, come on, my jokes aren't that bad. Okay, maybe I could work on them a little, but .. they never scared anyone off."

"Never mind that, I guess I'm not completely awake yet. Your name's Jordi Chin.."

"5 Stars for Aiden, fucking, Pearce!" The sounds of hands clapping resounded in the background, and that alone formed a small smile on the grey-hat hacker's lips. He might take Damien up on his offer.. Jordi Chin might not be such a bad guy. His sense of humor is off key, but, endurable. Aiden snickered, and shook his head at the silliness of it all.

"The sun is shining, it's a beautiful day, and Brenks told me you're a complete hermit. I'm almost afraid to ask, because there is a possibility I might be blinded by your frighteningly pale skin, but .. You up for a cup of coffee?"

Another grin.

"Or a beer, whichever you prefer, I'm an easy going guy. I'll drink whatever, as long as it rinses the copper taste of blood out of my mouth. That and the occasional hairs... That's what you get when you grow fashionable facial hair, isn't that right? But that's the price we pay for looking handsome, I know that's right."

Damien didn't lie when he said that Jordi knew how to make small talk.. His mouth doesn't seem to stop. But it is nice to hear someone else talk besides Damien. And Jordi's version of small talk is amusing, well .. a little bit. Aiden was sure that the more he would be exposed to Jordi's blabber mouth, the more he'd get irked by it, but that's for future Aiden. Present Aiden enjoyed the sound of his voice for the time being.

"Unless you are clean shaven, I guess that's a fashionable look too. Brenks didn't really give me much to go off of, so I don't really have a point of ref--"

"-- I'll take you up on that offer. That is, if it's on you. I'm .. kinda low on cash, as we speak."

Jordi shut up, then broke out into laughter. "Alright, alright. That's no problem. You better look your Sunday's best, in that case. The nicer you look, the more cash I'll spend on you. Rule of the book, man."


	4. playful, at best..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can I just point out how much I love the dynamic between Jordi and Aiden? It's the most beautiful love-hate relationship, if I've ever seen one.  
> And despite all of that, it doesn't feel forced at all .. It's like, despite the rough edges, they both refuse to simply walk away.
> 
> Gotta love those moments when Jordi tries to make small talk, during a mission in which Aiden is about to fucking kill everyone on the perimeter..  
> I can get behind that, try to keep things light - I'll just forget watchdogs 2 happened, as Jordi goes full Jackie Chan in that one..

So many faces everywhere. Endless stories waiting to be read into with a simple push of a button. Conversations held over the phone without caution, without the knowledge of just how open and bare they leave it for scum with bad intentions. Aiden had learned from each and every call he just so happened to tap into while testing his Profiler on the bustling Chicago streets. And the main piece of knowledge he gained on the populace, is that they are not as complicated as they make themselves out to be. Humanity isn't complicated in the slightest, by any means, half of the story is spelled out on the devices they carry on their person at all times. Not to mention the criminal activities they blatantly fail to cover up, or tracks left open for just about anyone to follow. Aiden held his head down as he walked through the pack of civilians, the Profiler in his right hand picking up face after face, as he made his way through the crowds of faces. Northeast from his current location, a possible crime detected. About 30km to the west, a woman is being threatened for her valuables. On the 4th floor of the building ahead of him, a freelance hacker is trying to get access to a hospitals main servers.

It's a never-ending cycle of rats moving through the darkest depths of the sewers, in the hopes of finding something valuable to help build its little nest. 5m ahead, a 25-year old steelworker with a record of repeat-theft closing in. Aiden lifted his head for a split second, found the suspect in question, ready to move his way through the crowd, walking in a straight line towards him. 1 meters distance .. And there he is. As he lowered his head again, he felt the young adult bump into him, then mutter a quick 'excuse me' under his breath, before picking up his pace.

Aiden had seen it all before, it had became nothing but a simple day-to-day routine. With his Profiler in hand, he tailed the young man into an alley not too far ahead. Once the man felt like he was in the clear, he checked the freshly pick-pocketed wallet now in his possession, opening it and robbing it of its contents without any sense of visible moral. Human behavior showcases itself in repetitive patterns, and the more Aiden got exposed to said behavior, the easier it was to pinpoint the signs of a possible crime, even before it took place. Yet he liked to rely on his Profiler for reassurance. He wouldn't want to be caught red-handed, rough housing an innocent civilian, due to a lack of poor judgment. Even if his instinct had never failed him thus far, the risk was just too great. The young man breathed a sight of content relief, then dropped the wallet to the ground. Yeah, go ahead, rejoice prematurely, kid. Savor it while you can.

Aiden reached down his hip, swiftly lifted the tails of his leather trench coat, before whipping out his trusty baton. He closed his Profiler and put it back in his coat's pocket, before sucking in a gulp of air and dashing forward, towards the unsuspecting thief. Both men crashed down to the mossy pavement, and within just a handful of seconds, Aiden had his baton firmly pressed against the young man's Adam's apple, now forcing him onto his knees, as he swung his arms around wildly, whilst gasping for much needed air as the pressure on his throat built up with each passing second.

"I'm gonna give you about 2 minutes to put my money back in my wallet and nicely hand it back over to me. Got that?"

The young man could only nod between gasps, and eagerly reached for his back pocket, the moment Aiden released some, yet not all, of the pressure on his baton. Money back securely into the confines of the leather wallet, it was now pressed firmly into Aiden's hands. With an approving nod of the head, Aiden removed the baton from the man's body, and pressed the heel of his boot against his lower back, pushing him down, face first, into the pavement. As he pushed the metal rod back into its handle, and reattached it to his belt, Aiden got to the motion of exiting the scene, but ended up stopping in his tracks and looked over his shoulder at the young man, trembling in fear as he tried to climb back onto his feet, and smirked. "When will you learn, Anthony? Next time I catch you around, I won't play so nicely anymore." He had just reached the corner of the alleyway, when his phone buzzed strongly against his hip, sending vibrations all over his upper leg and thy.

"It's shows a lack of class to leave an earnest man waiting, Pearce. My beer is getting warm, and I'm warning you, I get migraines from pains in the ass - and I'm useless to you when I get migraines."

"Something came up, but I'm on my way."

It then struck Aiden that he had no idea what Jordi looked like in the first place. And he doubted the man being within the age group of eager selfie-sporting hipster ideologists. Heck, even Aiden fancied himself too old to be remotely considered to fall into that category, and he had only recently celebrated his 28th birthday. Well, to what extend you'd call downing an entire bottle of cheap whiskey alone in a cheap and dirty motel room, a birthday celebration. Jordi seemed to have gotten the 411 on him, however. Perhaps Jordi knew what to look out for, and he could recognize him in a crowd within seconds. Then again .. He did mention not getting a point of reference from Damien. Fuck it ..

"Good, that's very good, indeed. I'll order another beer, a cool one this time -- and as punishment for letting the likes of me wait for jack shit, you get to down the warm beer, sound good?"

"Jordi, what am I looking for exactly?"

"Well .. That's the question on most people's minds, isn't it? What are we looking for? And where will we find it? Deep thoughts for such an early hour of the day, Pearce. Didn't hold you for the philosopher's type, but .. I can make it work. After all, it's the little differences that ma--"

"-- Jordi! For fuck's sake, your face! Your clothes! Anything will do. What am I looking for? What are you wearing?"

Passersby shot him some confused looks, all of which went way over Aiden's head as he picked up his pace, only for him to come to an abrupt stop in front of the first neon sign leading into a small bar, that he came across. He was already starting to get irked by Jordi's lax nature, and he hadn't even met up in person with the guy. He had acted too hastily, hadn't he..?

"Whoa, you're moving at a mile a minute. Jeez, Pearce, way to ignore the good stuff, like the act of getting to know each other properly. The nice walks down the beach, the first time holding hands, the sweet giggling as I push back some of your beautiful and soft, silky hair, and the expensive dinner. I was looking forward to the 45 dollar steak, and to be honest, you're letting me down, buddy. I held you in higher regards.."

"I don't know what you look like, you fuck! How can we meet up, if I haven't a goddamn clue who or what I'm looking for?"

A moment of silence, and again the man's trademark laid-back laughter. Good to know he was having such a good time, all the while Aiden's blood pressure was rising dangerously high. This guy might actually be mental, and not the entertaining kind of mental, no, straight up, out of the straight jacket mental. What in the world had he gotten himself into? And how much would it take to safely get out of it? He had to keep an escape route in mind, a back-out plan, just in case..

"Strikingly handsome, and moderately Asian. What are you wearing?"

"Jordi! Could you be more specific? That doesn't exactly give me much to go off on."

"About 6'3, 86kg, average build, 5.5 inches flaccidp, 6.6 inches erect. Is that better, doll face?"

Aiden was positive his eyeballs would roll out of their sockets, that's how strongly and plentifully he had been rolling them throughout this horrible excuse for a conversation.  
"Take a picture."

"Whoa, you really are intent on skipping all the possible foreplay. Hell-bent on getting straight to business, I like that. Very admirable. I can get behind that. Sure thing, sweet pea. I'll make sure to get my good angle, I only have one. It's rather depressing, you know? I'll send it to you soon."

As the line went dead, Aiden sighed a breath of relief. "God damn it.. This can't real."


	5. newfound friendship?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> . I ship this trash so hard. Watch me ship it, ship it good ... Oh, hey, you here too?  
>  No but seriously, every time I get introduced to a new series or game, and I connect to a character, I obsess over them for a while.  
> Don't worry, it passes and then I just love them in moderate amounts. Let me get through this Aiden Pearce obsession in dignity.. Or what remains of it.

There it was. Another buzz, and swift fingers racing over the phone's touch screen. A picture, thé picture. Jordi Chin. From the looks of it, he had the outward appearance of the stereotypical high-class boutique owners, that would give you a sideway glance as you walked past their window. Oh, the judgment you would feel, the likes of you were far too beneath their high-class asses, for you to even be considered worthy of entering their pristine little world. Or .. At the very least, a Miami beach reject, that was forced to flee the area due to loans that far out extended the size of their inflatable egos. The fancy suit he wore alone, was probably worth more than all of Aiden's possessions combined. Not to mention the high-maintenance facial hair he got going on.. Yet his hairstyle looked home-styled. And as fitting as his exterior had been to the personality Aiden was introduced to, he found it hard to match the two. Jordi Chin, 6'3 .. Moderately Asian..

Aiden smirked at the picture displayed on his phone, before putting it away, sinking both hands into the pockets of his trench coat and making his way over to the location of said picture. Thank God, his Profiler was such an amazing piece of technology and software engineering, a quick scan of recognizable objects, buildings, heck even small neon signs decorating the interior walls, was more than enough for the Profiler to run a quick area scan and pinpoint all areas within the search listed.

The sun shone brightly, and its rays burned down harshly on the skin under Aiden's leather trench coat. At the very least his black cap prevented him from suffering from sun strokes, but.. that would just be about all of the benefits of his usual attire. The price of being a shadow in the daylight.. As his steps drew nearer and nearer to the area of interest, his phone buzzed once more, and upon expecting yet another .. flattering photo of his new colleague, Aiden instead was met with the caller ID reading 'Damien Brenks'. He hadn't heard from the man in about 3 days, not since that one late night call in which he introduced the mere idea of Jordi Chin - the concept, if you may so perceive it. And a call in broad daylight, without any prior texts, could and definitely would mean one thing, and one thing alone : a new job on the horizon. He reached for the answer button and pressed the phone up to his ear, retreating into a more secluded area of the street.

"Damien, what is it?"

"Have you met your new business partner yet?"

"I'm working on it. Is that why you called?"

"It is part of it. I have a job for you, kiddo. DeDS3C related operation, and I need your combat skills."

"What's the story?"

"They found a leak in CTos' east server. And as you know, those rat-status scum are on it like flies on a fresh cadaver. I want you to intercept their signal and have a look yourself. See what you can find, and bring it back to me. "

"You know I want no business with DeDSEC. I want nothing to do with them, Damien. I thought I made myself clear on that."

"I know, but do you think I give a shit about what you want, Pearce? Get the data, and then we'll talk."

Aiden let out a grunt of annoyance and threw his phone back into his pocket. It had been years since he had last been in contact with anyone DeDSEC related, and he had good reasons to keep a low profile around any of their so-called affairs. DeDSEC was no good, and whatever it was that they got their hands on, was bound to hold importance to any self-respected hacker within the community. Even if they would wring it for what's worth, and toss the remnants aside, for any low-rank script kiddie to have their way with, as they please. What could DeDSEC possibly have gotten their eye on? Not to mention, their inability to give CTos a fucking break. The longer this little fude reigns on, the more it starts to resemble two jealous ex-lovers, unable to let each other go all the way. There has to be a connection connecting DeDSEC operatives to the East CTos server, and whatever it is that is kept at that server, has no purpose falling into DeDSEC's hands, or any black-hat hacker for that matter.

The 28-year old shook his head in frustration, not willing to let this cloud his mind at the moment. He wasn't in the mood to deal with a small side-job, not after the trouble and effort he had to go through to figure out Jordi Chin's profile. Been under treatment of a shrink of some sort.. Aiden snorted, but decided to let it go and continue his path toward meeting up with the man of the hour. And surely, he found the 'moderately Asian' man soaking up the sunlight in a private booth near the end of the roof terrace. Slick son of a bitch lived the good life, out in the open, in plain sight, yet veiled under the influence of the widespread populace' perception of welth. It all rang clear in Aiden's mind, and added more reasons to keep up his guard all together. This wouldn't be just any other business accomplice, heck, that ship had long sailed. No, this had the likelihood of turning out to be so much more than just .. that. With slow struts, Aiden made his way over to the man's fabric laced lounge chair, nudging the one leg that hung lazily over the edge, with his leather boot. The raven haired individual raised his sun visors with a hand, and squeezed one eye shut as he looked right into a pair of green-blue eyes. Not exactly green, but not blue either, somewhere in between, lost in limbo .. Teal? Emerald? Who cares in the end. A playful smile tugged at the corners of the man's mouth, and he sat upright.

"Aiden Pearce. A pleasure to finally meet you in person."

He reached for a lonesome lounge chair and patted the soft cushioning draped over it. "Sit, come, sit down with me, partner." He turned to the little table that stood next to him and reached for a forgotten bottle of beer, swinging his wrists a time or two, before handing it over to Aiden. "Your disgustingly warm beer, as promised." As Aiden eyed the bottle in a mixture of what seemed sincere confusion, and bewildered frustration, Jordi let his gaze trail over the gray-hatter hacker's attire. "I am clutching my pearls, Pearce. Is that how you carry yourself in this type of weather? Are you actively trying to give yourself a heart attack?" The Asian man repositioned the back cushion before letting his frame fall back lazily. "Because my methods are far quicker and less ... of an eyesore. I got to be blunt with you, Pearce. You're dressage is a mess. Have you no style?"

The Irishman cocked an eyebrow, placing the beer bottle on the wooden designer foundation between their two lounge chairs. "I'm not the type to spend much thought on my outfit, if that's what you mean. I have more important things to worry about."

"Ah, yes. Brenks and his little hacker-fests, am I right? Because those are sooo important." He turned his head toward Aiden, his brows dropping slowly. "You're gonna get yourself killed within that man's care, you hear me? Brenks is on the verge of becoming a large, moving target, you know? Trust me .. I know. I'm, eh, in the business, as they say." He laid back once more, before jumping back up and turning his body towards Aiden. "I want you to take that off. Not only is it atrocious to look at, but it WILL kill you in this heat." Aiden sternly shook his head, the mere thought of taking off his familiar attire, reminded him of feeling naked. Almost, like he had lost a part of himself, in some vague manner. "I don't think so, Jordi."

"It wasn't a question, Pearce." Said the man, as his arms grabbed both of younger man's arms, forcefully wriggling them out of that silent killer, formerly known as Aiden's trademark trench coat. Once it laid sprawled over the lounge chair, Jordi brought a hand to his mouth, only to raise a single eyebrow at the sight. "You are a wreck, Pearce. A Wool zipped turtleneck sweater? Are you aware of your surroundings? Can you feel sunlight on your skin?" He brought his hand closer to Aiden's pale face, three fingers held in place. "How many fingers? .. You might actually be blind and sensory-deprived. Have you ever gotten involved in a car accident? Inflicted a burn onto yourself as a child? You might have actually cut off some nerve endings.."

Aiden struggled out of the man's touch, clearly having his personal zone invaded by his actions. He was well aware that his attire might .. attract a certain type of attention. And, the current season might not .. match the safe attire he had grown fond of, but it gave him a sense of safety. Safety that he needed to combat his constant anxiety and obsession with observing his surroundings. He should've known to refrain from taking up Damien's offer.. He did not agree with the intention of getting judged for his choices.. He got plenty of that during his childhood.

"Off. " Jordi spoke calmly, this time standing upright, his frame now towering over Aiden's seated form. His movements went by so rapidly, Aiden barely had the chance to register them, and within seconds his grey sweater had joined his trench coat, leaving him in a black tank top, loose jeans and black army boots. Jordi nodded with his arms crossed loosely against his muscular chest. "Better. At least now I won't have to deal with the effort and trouble of having to call 911 due to you having a sun stroke or dying of heart palpitations." He sat back down, taking a big swing from his beer. "You were not what I was expecting, to be honest."

Aiden couldn't shake the feeling of being extremely exposed, but for whatever it was worth, Jordi had proven some type of skill and agility, so .. if anything, he was somewhat safe within his presence, right? He turned to face the Asian man, then found his black cap on the wooden foundation, moving in closer to reach it and place it in his lap.

"No, I was expecting some middle-aged fart with a bad comb-over and a growing beer-belly to complete the picture. You know, those standard, 'stay-in-mother's-basement-hacking-into-whatever type of whacko. But to my surprise.. Brenks actually sent someone that could .. with some improvement, as was obvious, could meet my standards. You see, I look for certain things in my partners. If you can't run a mile without being winded, I'll have to go the extra mile of arranging a car-on-demand deal.. Not that I'm not willing to arrange that for you, but .. It just eats up time and money.. that could be better spent on.. actual business, you know?"

Aiden shifted in his seat, unable to let his eyes wander toward his sweater and trench coat. They looked so lonely.. Jordi's voice snapped him back out of it, the change in tone forcing him to focus on him.

"Listen, Pearce. I'm a fun guy, easy going, wise cracking -- I like jokes, I like a fun dynamic, a relaxed atmosphere during work, but.. I can also be the exact opposite of all of the above. And.. You don't want to meet that side of me, really.. I have no issue blowing your brains out and painting my car with your blood. Dogs are always hungry for whatever it is you feed them, do I make myself clear?"

A simple, but stern nod, and Jordi's lax smile returned.

"Very good, Pearce. You're a quick learner, I appreciate that. Now .. " When Jordi looked over at Aiden's shrunken posture, he snorted into his fist. "What's with you?" He was led to follow the Irishman's line of sight, and burst into laughter on the spot. "You ... You are something else, you know that, Pearce? I have a feeling we'll get along just fine. Now stop being a little bitch about your fucking cosplay- or whatever the fuck it is you're trying to pull here, and lay back. You've got a good build, no need to be self-conscious. I'll get you a cool beer, you deserve it for being such a good boy."


	6. introduction to a dark reality..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .. Who can relate to insomnia? Raise your hands and rub them through your sore eyes. I know you are out there..  
>  Am I the only one that .. kinda feels like Aiden gets very little sleep? I mean, throughout the game, Aiden mostly operates during nighttime, so his biometric clock is all kinds of fucked up .. I can relate.. *sad sigh* I'm a night owl, but you know what .. I've come to love the night.
> 
> Also, Aiden is the cutest little button ever.. fek.
> 
> confession: I listened to Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata whilst writing this .. Why? I don't know.. I usually tend to listen to soft,  
> emotional and dark classical music when I write. It brings out the remnants of sadness that I use to .. coat my stories

Once his skin had adjusted to the soft breeze and burning UV rays, Aiden found himself relaxing into the soft cushioning on the, rather comfortable, lounge chair. The sensation of coldness spread through his fingertips and into the small bones underneath. Conversations hummed all around him in the background, and for a moment, the man lost himself in a state of safety and serenity. Jordi had been eyeing some redheaded waitress, and after a short moment of silence, he returned to his chair, a heavy sigh crawling from his mouth, to meet the oxygen filled air around them. "Women are .. Well, they make you work for the goods. Putting it like that.. It doesn't differ much from the rich bastards that hire me. Always having the little man work for the goods. Isn't that right, Pearce?"

He was met with dead silence, and upon tracing the source, he found a dozing Irishman. Jordi's face displayed confusion, with a small hint of understanding, and he repositioned himself in the chair, one of his arms draped lazily over the head support. "Boy, am I glad I'm not some basement dwelling hack-kiddie.." A few minutes passed, and slowly but surely the silence was getting to Jordi. More and more as time went on, and after a good 10 minutes, he nudged the Irishman softly with his lacquer shoe. "Hey, Pearce. You're being a drag.. Don't leave me hanging like this." After a few more minutes of enduring the man's soft snores, which would have been barely audible, had he not been seated this close to the man, Jordi threw in the towel and lighted a cigarette. A soft vibration against his leg tore Aiden out of his soft slumber within seconds, jolting his torso up and letting his arms trail down the edges of his body in search of his phone. With an inspecting eye, Jordi watched the Irishman struggle to find his item of interest and eventually offered a hand.

"Under your sweet little booty, Pearce. Your coat." Jordi pointed a finger at the trench coat that still laid sprawled over the chair. "It remains a mystery how you managed to stay alive without a watchful eye to guide you through the daily struggles of being human."

With one hand rubbing his through his heavy eyes, Aiden pocketed his coat for his precious phone, only to discard the item onto his lap once he saw the caller ID. The man threw his head back once more, but kept his emerald eyes firmly open this time. He was tired, and he knew it all too well. He needed rest, if only it wasn't such a burden to come by for him. "How do you do that?" Aiden looked over to his side, to find Jordi mid-drag, and even before he could move his lips to form any sentence, Jordi continued to let his mouth run at its usual pace. "Being absolutely paranoid about your safety, then falling asleep in the midst of a crowd, yet being alert enough to recognize the sound of your phone among the many conversations held around us?" Letting out a soft grunt to signify the repositioning of his core, Aiden simply shook his head. "Self taught skill, I suppose." Jordi gave him a curt nod of the head, before crushing the cigarette in a nearby ashtray. "Do you people ever sleep? Aside from the short intervals I just witnessed." The short answer would be 'rarely'..

Though Aiden managed to get just the right amount of sleep for him to function for just the right amount of time to do his job, he had to admit that he spent the remainder of his days practically begging for a good night's rest. No sleep for the wicked, as they say.

The man ran a hand through his short-cropped chestnut hair, and let out another grunt as he stretched his spine and arms. He felt his shoulder blades part and rejoin during the shift in motion, and gladly welcomed the relief of pressure on the muscles. His eyes found the observant stare in Jordi's dark, almond-shaped eyes, and he wasn't sure how to read that expression with utmost certainty. Was he really that much of a mess? Damien hadn't been riding his tail that much.. As a matter of fact, work had been slow lately, but that still didn't ensure any peace or calm to his weary mind. Not in the least.. No. How long was he out for? By the looks of it, not too long, the same people surround him, and Jordi didn't seem all too bored. A safe bet would be 20 minutes. Enough to relief some stress, but not nearly enough to fuel his starving body. For a man that knew how to treat a car, he sure had little respect for his very own engine.

"I'm sorry. I'm just.." He found Jordi's stern gaze again, then decided against indulging into that type of conversation. Chin might be accustomed to sharing his personal sob stories with random strangers waving around a piece of paper with zero value in Aiden's world, he wasn't too willing to spoil the beans just yet. He had just met him.. And he hadn't been able to figure him out yet. It was too risky..

"I'm gonna go." He pushed himself up, leaning down to pull his sweater over his shoulders, and lazily draped his, now completely wrinkled up, trench coat over his frame. Even the smallest of movements felt like a ton of bricks on his body. He carefully positioned his black cap over his short hair, making sure the visor covered most, if not all of his forehead, eyes and nose bridge, then turned on the balls of his feet. "It was nice meeting you, Jordi. Gimme a call whenever you've got a job you need help with. I'll.. I'll see what I can do."

As he was about to lean down to shake the Asian man's hand, he felt a wave of darkness wash over him, and soon after he lost all strength in his legs. Shocked, Jordi jumped up from his chair to catch the hacker's body before it was sent down crashing to the ground.

The surrounding onlookers looked up in surprise, curious as to what had just transpired, yet lax in their actions to call for any actual help. Draping an arm around the Irishman's waist, Jordi pulled the man back onto his feet and guided him through the mass of faces, toward the exit. "You're heavier than you look, Pearce. Did I not warn you about dying on me? Who was right again? Me, Jordi Chin. But do they listen .."


	7. an irishman, a moderately asian man, and a cup of cinnamon spiced apple tea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I totally did not have Chinese food before writing this. Either way, I don't think I have a certain direction I want to take this fiction into.. But, I have ordered the Watch_Dogs Ebook, and I'm excited to see what it is like, since it continues the story and I'm curious to find out more to this plot.
> 
> The reason why Jordi is so obsessed with the color of Aiden's eyes, stems from me.. I honestly don't know what color to put on those peepers. They aren't green, but not blue either, somewhere vaguely in between.. Viridian is my best guess. There are so many abbreviations of colors, and blue and green are like distant cousins, so similar, yet so .. different at the same time. -- my mind wanders sometimes.

A faint smell wafted through the room, mild in nature and soothing to one's senses. Nerve endings sensed the pleasant caress of a cobalt blue bedspread. A man's athletic-built body was pressed down firmly into the doughy fabric, much to his appreciation. Breathing through peaceful snores, the tension that had built up in his limbs gradually fading. That faint smell harvested more of the air supply, blending the amiable essence of what might have been cinnamon and the richness of freshly sliced apples. Movement hardly worth detecting, though registered within a moment's notice. Pools of green gained reflection under the dim glow of a metal standing lamp in the corner of the room, that's the length they managed to travel, before a small amount of tears clouded the corners of said eyes.

"Jungle green .. or wait, no. Pine green perhaps?"

That fruity smell now engulfed the room, and a small vapor of damp air rose to greet a pair of nostrils. Green eyes navigated the area with caution, to find an end destination at the wood carved nightstand near the edge of headrest of the bed he laid on. Light had traveled toward a porcelain cup, resting on an equally antique white plate - creating a sharp rounded reflection on the fragile material. Most definitely the sweet odor of cinnamon, and it housed within the contents of that very cup. A defined torso pushed in an upward fashion by an equitably toned bicep, the palm of the adjoining arm observing the supple makeup of a cobalt blue duvet. Green caught blue, and the realization of a shift in surroundings occurred. The man found himself positioned on the likeable complexion of a queen sized bed, with the velvet touch of luxury under the tips of his fingers. A short lived smile resonated, making pools of green hike northwest of their current location, finding cedar in the shape of almonds.

"No, most definitely viridian. I rest my case on that find. Your damn eyes are viridian in color. Not quite green, but not quite blue either. -- something vaguely in between."

A face covered in well-aged skin, decorated with various barely detectable abnormalities in the form of healed scarification and patches of tiny-figured moles. Some of which covered by areas of patchy strands of black, form-shaped hair. Familiar in nature, yet ambiguous in the eyes of the beholder at the moment. The man's pseudo-broad shoulders void of the anticipated pricey suit-jacket. Instead, revealing the maroon dress-shirt kept hidden underneath. The thin textile giving away more of the man's well defined body, especially around the lower-arm region -- where he had rolled up the sleeves to expose more of his tanned skin. Green eyes raced across the image in front of him, discovering an unbuttoned collar, leaking the shadows that traced a set of well-defined collar bones, and a silver dog tag dangling near the thyroid gland.

"I've played around with some computers in the internet café around the block.. And I was disappointed to find nought on the likes of you. You surely covered every track leading to you, left no stone unturned. Paranoia is a symptom of recurring disorders within the realm of anxiety. Have you, eh, ever been diagnosed?"

Agile hands enveloped the cooling cup, bringing it closer to the owner of said viridian eyes. Trembling hands now cupped the item -- still warm to the touch -- yet lukewarm enough to not irritate the raw spots on his fingers or palms, for that matter. The scent now full in richness of fruity goodness, and sweet little nothings. Clouds of heat crashed onto a pale face, surely opening each and every pore within its vicinity. The liquid burned on this tongue, and the man felt the warmth race down his esophagus as it traveled down his his body. The taste mild in nature, a hint of sugar lingered on the tip of his tongue, followed up by the sour aftertaste of red apples on the roof of his mouth. Tea.. He had never thought himself to be the kind to appreciate this watery soup of nature, but as of now, the beverage worked its way around his system, bringing with it an effect of newfound composure and tranquillity. Those Asians were positively onto something..

"But I got lost in the rabbit hole. Did you know your name means 'fire walker' in Irish? Which, for a split second, led me to believe you might be an Irish lad. Then again, you don't sound Irish.."

Jordi guided the cup of tea back to its home on the nightstand, then leaned back in the chair he had pulled up next to the bed. Aiden found himself unaware on the events leading up to his current position, but he was positive to accept, he found himself in the domain of none other than Jordi Chin. The man must have drove him to this location, because Aiden failed to recognize the type of cement used on the buildings that were visual through the windows. The majority of the constructions taking up the suburban areas of Chicago consisted out of a mixture of OPC and RHC, due to their resistance to high temperatures and the shorter hardening rate, compared to other types. Yet the cement present within the buildings in this area, had the outward appearance and overal texture of HAC. A fine mixture of bauxite, lime and ground clinker. Rapidly hardening materials, with a hardening duration of 3,5 to 5 hours.. This was a high-society neighborhood.

"I am Irish, Carrick on Shannon. But I grew up in central Chicago for the most part."

Aiden moved the cobalt sheets off of his lower body, exposing the pale skin present to the sudden addition of cold air. He had no idea how long he had been out for, but knew the forced resting period, revived parts of his body he didn't even know needed attention. He felt renewed, and as soon as he felt his body spring to life, the borders of his stomach crunched together, emitting a low growl -- which he swiftly tried to cover up by pressing a hand to his abdomen. The Asian man seated next to him, allowed the corners of his mouth to slightly curl. "Little fire walker is hungry, isn't he? Well.."

He climbed onto his feet, placing the chair back where it belonged - under the table, to be reunited with its chair-brethren. "Since I overdid my nice act of the day by, not only bringing you here, but also preparing you my home-made recipe of cinnamon spiced apple tea, I will leave the act of preparing and delivering food to some greased up teenager in some fast food joint."

His phone held up against the side of his sharp face, Jordi turned to look at the brunet. "Number 35 and 66?" But even before he could take in a response, he had turned his back to the man, now engaged into conversation. "Good evening, I'd like to place an order.." The man's voice died down in volume the further he walked out of the room and into the large kitchen up ahead. The only words Aiden managed to make out with some effort, were the numbers 66, 73, 54, and 62. Which made the Irishman dig into his own memory for any information relating to said numerics. A smile crept unto his face.

"Mixed vegetables with bean curd, roast pork with mixed vegetables, vegetable mai fun and moo shu chicken."


	8. a rat caught in a trap..

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Since I sorta .. rant in my notes, I'm gonna move them to the end of this chapter.  
> It involves a lot of technical mambo jumbo, so for those who couldn't care less about it,  
> they can skip it after reading the chapter itself. You are welcome.

Sequent lines of code, strings of code, particles of a bigger translation, useless on their own, yet with great power when in large quantities. Numbers moving in a persistent pattern, following the flow of given commands. The veins in his hands pulsating under their position in mid-air, inappreciably hovering above a gathering of keys on the board. Some of the alphabetic stickers worn to some extent, but the Persian blue LED lights subjugated this realization. It bounced off of his fingertips, coloring the adjacent field of skin with a vivd hue. One server had been effortlessly hacked into, the walls set up within, far too brittle to even stand a chance. And not even the signal tracker was graced with a built-in resistance against any threat of this caliber. This made the act of hacking into systems a drag, easy and without challenge -- but useful nonetheless. He was sure the information slowly seeping into his trusty hard drive, would come in handy. If not for direct personal gain, at the every least to make a few hundred bucks off of through sales.

An abrupt stop, the majestic dance of cadence movement halted to seclusion. An abrupt intersection, but not without possible pinpointed cause or traceable source. An error message brought up to the right display screen, the screen on the left showcasing a search for inconsistent software. "Trying to hack the hacker, huh?" A quick inspection of the task managers source codes, and the intruder had been dexterously established. "I've got your signal now, friend-o. Let's see where you are operating from, exactly.." File metadata laid open, glorified on the brightly lit monitor, yet without specific leads. "Ghost IP. You are hacking through a foreign device, erasing your tracks.. You are close, though. If you wanna play, let's play, bud. I'm in for some action after this lame job." The man readjusted the hood of his washed-out black sweater, letting his fingers dance over the keyboard in rapid succession. "I expected a RAT, but somehow .. It doesn't show up on the TCP or UDP. I'll run a port change regardless."

Silence. As sudden as the attack had appeared to be, the silence brought about more anxiety than any actual theft could be. "Portage Park .. You son of a bitch!" Laughter filled the dark room, and the young man leaned back in his desk chair -- the leather moaning under the shift of weight, and the metal holding it together, whining for a split second. "I know you.. You bet I do. You pulled this shit before." He looked up and let his eyes wander toward the small camera installed on the main monitor. He cracked a mischievous smile, and brought up a flat hand to wave with. "Long time no see, babe. I doubt this data is of any use to you, so I'd like for you to get the hell out of my network. I worked long and hard on the masking-job." He then breathed out a sigh.

"It hurts my feelings, man. To have you pierce through my layers of protection so easily. I, I really thought I had this going for me, BUT .. It did give me some insight. Sharpen my tools, you know?" He pulled up another network tracer, disabling the current one in use, and randomly selecting one at the bottom of the list that had shown up. Once a source-reader had gathered every last bit of translations, the man input a string of false commands, made sure to corrupt the data-flow, and thus sending the system into a sweet fit of producing error after error, until it saw the need to perform a re-boot. That would give him enough time to destroy his network, ensure the data was locked onto a private server for future attempts at transfer, and get the hell out of this mess. Whoever was watching him on the other end of town, they sure knew what the hell they were doing.

And they weren't out to get their hands on the data themselves, they .. seemed to want to just end the transfer of said data. Like the good white-hat hacker they were. Such goody two shoes.. They were a pain in the ass, to put it mildly.

\- -

"Impressive."

Aiden jumped a little in his chair, but relaxed upon recognizing Jordi's frame positioned behind him. His dark eyes scanning the information, and absolute chaos of numeric strings of code, and the many windows labeled with a cluster fuck of symbols as their given name. He had never been one for this technical mambo-jumbo, he couldn't be bothered by it, but it sure as hell was fascinating to see a hacking-job executed to pristine perfection.

Regardless whether he understood what even had happened, or what the meaning of it all was, judging by Aiden's reaction, and the glued-on stare at the computer monitor, it had been in his favor. So this was the infamous 'hacking' Damien Brenks spoke about plentifully. The jobs Aiden and so many other grey- and black-hatters had been entranced by.

"Who was your little toy this time?"

The 28-year old ran a hand through his eyes, regathering his focus, before turning his body in Jordi's general direction. Indeed, he had been led to this person's work before, many of times to be exact, and though it seemed to be nothing but some black-hat hacker killing time by intruding, seemingly random servers at a time, his ability to detect and evade every incoming attack Aiden sent after him, left him impressed at best. His work was good, well thought out and professional in nature, yet .. it always had one hole waiting to be probed. This person was good, he had to give it to them, but not good enough to review the bigger picture. And like most black-hat hackers, his ballooning ego kept him from running back-ups, or from going to the extra extend of running his own work thoroughly. That's exactly what kept his software vulnerable to intrusion. He might be able to detect it easily, but he knows Goddamn well that he needs to reevaluate his work more often. This person was young ..

"No idea, but they're familiar. I've come across their little slip-ups more than I can count. And it fails to generate a proper fix for the exact same weaknesses each time."

Aiden looked up at Jordi, recognizing the confusion written in the man's glossed eyes. That translation of confusion, an inability to understand given information on the task at hand, and the low likelihood of ever putting in any effort of even trying to comprehend. Computer language is not for all, and he was okay with that truth. Jordi was the last person he'd expect to sneak into surveilled networks, snooping around in citizen's personal information, just waiting to make a move and trade off said information for the smallest amounts of personal gain, or benefit. And with most hackers, it was rarely about the money. No, these rats did it for the street cred. Building up a monstrous reputation among the hacking community, unaware of how their kind was lucked down upon by the great. A revelation waiting to be discovered, but would be soon enough. And the outcome was never pretty in their eyes.

"What .. did they do? Steal money? Hack into ladies' locker rooms? You know, the good stuff? The dirtier the better, as they say."

A low grunt is what the Irishman breathed through pursed lips. He had yet to actually find such creeps. Though he had stumbled upon the accidental access to a universities servers, though the person behind it had the brain capacity to backtrack and leave through the same backdoor, they had entered through. Accidental break-ins aside, the people added to his list were far more fucked up than those low-rank script kiddies. No, they had a clear visual ahead of them, they went in with a goal and a task -- and it was a simple gamble. Do your job and get out without getting detected, or being traced and taken out by Fixers. Aiden's eyes trailed back to Jordi, who was still eyeballing the screen. That's where men like Jordi step in, and clean up the mess. Well .. Whatever a fixer's definition of 'cleaning' might be. Proven to lean more towards making even more of a mess, but .. that's their deal.

"CTos East server tower. It's just one of many areas that holds powerhouses of computers, running miles of data by the second. Stored information on just about anything and anyone that has ever been picked up by a camera. Desired targets for cyber-attacks."

"Ah, I see. And that's where you come in. The good-guy hacker, here to save the day and to keep everyone's privacy well protected."

"Sorta.. It runs deeper than that. As much as I protect civilians, it is part of my contract to occasionally have to invade the very information I'm trying to protect.. It's complicated, and I don't think you'd care anyway."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't ask me about Defalt. My opinion on the guy runs thin.. There really isn't much to go off on, and the game gives very little reason for me to actually care about doing some reasonable amounts of research on the character. He isn't too interesting, and he doesn't spark my interest very much. And by all means, throughout the game play missions in which he IS present, his fucking network lock puzzles were a metric pain in the ass. Also, it IS clever, and I do have to give it to Ubisoft for giving JB a rat design, especially since he's in the hacking community, because I'm almost positive his design was derriven from a RAT attack, which stands for Remote Access Trojan, which is a pest to deal with. Basically, a RAT will lodge itself into the TCP (Transmission Control Protocol) or UDP (User Datagram Protocol) ports of a RAN (Remote Acess Network), and will activate upon your start-up of said network.
> 
> Easily explained, a TCP connects to a computer it is sending data to. This is done so that the data-transfer can occur safely, and once the download is complete, and the data is transferred, the connection stops. It is quick, but it puts a load on the computer, since it's constantly monitoring not only the connection's strength, but also the data it is actively transferring. You can compare it to you picking up a phone, dialing your mother's number for a surprise call, Once the both of you hang up, that connecting is released. During said call, your phone will monitor the connection liability and the amount of data it is using up.
> 
> A UDP on the other end, is a bit .. less reliable. Basically it's a game of crossing your fingers and hoping for the best. If you use UDP for data-transfer, you have a clear destination in mind, and you send the data over. But there is no actual guarantee that said data will ever arrive on its anticipated destination. It is a more popular method of data transfer online, as it puts the least strain on your device or its network connection, but it comes with a price. You can compare it to manually dropping a letter off at a post office. You hope it will arrive at its destination, and, most of the time it does, but there is always that small chance that it gets lost somewhere.
> 
> Which means, that whenever data is being accessed or transferred via either one of these ports, a RAT is quick to locate, and track, and possibly even intercept. UDP port transfers are the easiest to hack into, since they are so vulnerable to begin with. TCP port transfers are trickier, but involve more risk of data theft in strings. Once this is initiated, the hacker will be able to trace that signal and have access to your network, webcam, your files etc. It is, however, not the end of the world, because once they are on your network, their IP address is vulnerable. You can also use TCPV to find out who is connected to your network, this will show all TCP/IPs. It shows their active connection and and IP. (don't be immediately alarmed, plenty of legit programs will be connected to remote computers. whenever you visit a page with a standard web browser, that browser will auto-download ads, (java)scripts etc from all over the internet) An easy solution, or a momentary fix is a Port fix. Change up the UDP and TCP ports for a momentary fix.
> 
> And that is, to some extent, what is seen in the game itself. Each time you get presented with those little puzzles, in which you have to turn the valves to guide the the current to the right port, to create a liable connection, you are basically interfering with active data transfer. You hack into a server, and want to intercept data. Data, being constantly monitored and transferred between networks, has to move through ports. The 'valves' you turn in those mini games, or 'puzzles' are active ports. The more you turn them, the more changes you apply to said active port. Each change to said port, naturally changes the current of said data. When you complete the PORT fix, the data transfers through to active or most reliable connection. And once the data-transfer has been re-initiated in can transfer to a new network, most of the times in the game, that NW being a PA network on Aiden's phone. Whenever you activate a port with a timer in the game, that's a detection software.
> 
> It isn't exactly how it is portrayed in the game, but it works similarly. A data-transfer is monitored, and an active intrusion to sad transfer, could trigger detection software, which will then do its best to locate the signal of said intrusion, locking it out when it can, and resetting the ports, or manually changing them completely. If you are dealing with a smart detection software, multiple ports can be surveilled at once, making hacking into them quite the kick in the shins .. But, if done correctly, or completed within a reasonable amount of time, a data-transfer can be rerouted to another network..


	9. a possible solution..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will add more JB, I will .. relax. Relax.. We're just getting started with all of this. Aiden is still the cutest thing out there, fek. fek fek fek ..
> 
> Female reasons aside, are you guys still enjoying this? Feel free to tell me what you think, it helps me improve and it gives me more points of view.

"So you saved the day." Jordi spoke in an uplifting tone, placing both of his hands on either sides of Aiden's shoulders, applying pressure to the areas. "You've stopped one of your little hacker buddies from stealing precious information. I see no better reason to celebrate. How about we crack open a nice bottle of wine? I do believe I have one lying around here somewhere, good year too.." The man retracted his limbs, to move over to the kitchen once more, rumbling around in the cabinets to the left. If only a reason for celebration had been this meaningless, there was very little reason for premature victory.

"I haven't done anything, really. I located his signal and followed it, but his detection threw me back a few steps." Jordi seemed to have stopped dead in his tracks, an expression of unknown kind displayed on his wrinkled face. "Meaning?" Aiden glanced over at his phone, laying on the edge of the desk - untouched and silent as it charged. That guy must've ghosted the network, or at the very least locked the data in a masked server. "Meaning as we stand, the data he accessed, has been stored." Dark eyes darted around in silence, two arms raised in question. If only Jordi knew just how ridiculous he looked at the moment. "That's good, no? That way nobody can reach it."

Not exactly. The Irishman crossed his arms on the desk, his thin brows furrowed lightly. A masked server wasn't that big of a deal, a ghost-network still ran on an IP, granted, the connected location could be literally anywhere, but knowing how this guy operates, there was a high possibility of him leaving the two connected. The masked IP would be hidden behind a firewall, and outside of any Proxy server. He locked eyes with the computer monitor, as if struck a small nugget. "I could try to blacklist the most commonly used proxy servers and VPNs.. That shouldn't take me too long to figure out."

With a bottle now in hand, Jordi was left to shrug as he dug around for a bottle opener, he should have one.. If he had bottles, he should have means of opening them. "A reverse PTR .. That can enumerate geo location data for the IP address he used before. He doesn't seem to be the kind of guy that would travel great distances for the likes of his hobby.."

"Can't you hack into the guy's phone? It looks easier than hacking into a computer.. I mean, isn't it? I'm talking out of my ass here.." Aiden shook his head in a stern manner. "The old fashioned way of sending a PDF through an analytic service seems too kid friendly. He won't fall for the simple attachment trick, no doubt.. And I know for a fact they have JAVA disabled."

"Is it really that hard to find an IP?" Two glasses now rested on the counter, the bottle still resting in the Asian man's hands. After the shit he had seen Aiden pull just now, he was certain the guy was capable of more than he realized. Even if he discarded it as nothing special, Jordi wasn't even able to fix the smallest of errors on his laptop, let alone actually managing to hack into a person's computer. "An open IP is easy to track, but once it's masked, that's a different story entirely. I know he is operating via a proxy server, and they are not impossible to invade. I did it before, but this time he has opened a ghost network behind that server."

The Irishman found Jordi's silent gaze, thus continued. "If I know this guy like I do, than he connected the data-transmission. It means .. It means that, the moment I locate his IP, it will send an alert, which will most definitely result in a secondary shift in servers." Aiden sighed. "He will continue playing hide-and-seek until he has what he wants. I access one network, he moves over to another, etc.. I cannot breach without being detected."

Jordi walked over to the living room, placing one of the wine glasses on the desk, and seated himself on the white leather couch, one of his legs neatly resting on the other. "Why do you care so much about being detected? He expects you to find him, that's the point of his little game, is it not? Instead of fearing his current move, anticipate the next." He took a sip of the deep red liquid, savoring the taste on his tongue. "What you just said ..the, eh.., proxy servers or whatever it was.You said you could blacklist those .. Compare the ones you find to the one you just breached - and gamble your luck on the one you think he'll pick next."

Aiden was about to discard that idea in its entirety, until he had filtered the words all together. "What you said made not sense, but it did give me an idea of a similar kind." He brought his hands up to the keyboard, swiftly typing away. "I can embed a BEF into the network that corresponds to CTos."

"A what now?"

"A browser Exploitation Framework. It is predominately used on webpages, to enumerate someone's currently used or accessed browser. It doesn't even need to be opened or interacted with, just its presence within the network is more than enough. I can write the script for the program, hide it within the network frame and wait until he re-accesses the network. It doesn't matter whether he has masked his IP or his personal network for that matter, he has to access the one CTos uses to access the data. The data is linked to that network, even if he locked it. The moment he accesses either the network itself, or the data link, I can trace his location. The IP will be revealed, even if he attempts at masking it again. It will leave my IP open since I will be moving onto a joined network.." green eyes trailed over to the Asian man, seemingly enjoying his whine, not bothered by Aiden's technical mumbling. Once he picked up on Aiden's careful stare, he cocked an eyebrow.

"I don't like that look you're given me, Pearce.."

"If I reveal my IP by joining the CTos East network, it will reveal my location to him, or .. anyone accessing the server, for that matter. This location .. Your home."

Aiden was taken aback by the sudden fit of laughter that erode from the Fixer's gut. Not entirely what he had anticipated, but better than an AK-47 pressed against his temple.

"You thought .. This was my home? My dear boy, I'm just .. house-sitting, yes - That's it. House sitting some rich fucker's little penthouse. You didn't really think I'd live here? By all means, open the IP for the world to see, all I ask .. is that you give me a heads up once this is all done and over with. So we can get the hell out of here in one piece.. CTos have the meanest of Fixers on their side. I wouldn't want to mess with those myself."

A stern nod of the head. "Seems fair."


	10. a default slip up..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I know jack shit about Defalt, as stated before, I just made up something.  
> If you don't like my representation of JB, lemme know, I'm willing to adjust if necessary.

Night had fallen upon the suburban areas of downtown Chicago, the darkness that accompanied its wake, shrouding the squalor that moved through secluded breadths. Aiden had just woken up from a soft slumber, or rather was aggressively woken up by a heated argument coming from the motel room next door. It wasn't anything new, as the Irishman had grown accustomed to these violent outbursts adorning the occupants: A dark-haired woman in her mid thirties that worked the streets on request of her, not too protective, husband. Aiden had profiled the woman now and again, learning nothing more than her given name, surname, occupation and estimated income - since he was already aware of her residence. Rosaria Lambardi, wife to Carlito Juan Lambardi. Quite the fascinating couple, as their stormy relationship had been driven by the essence of fear on a large scale. And despite the woman's participation in the act of prostitution, with her darling husband having more than one connection to a wider prostitution ring, Aiden had far too little evidence to make a move. Chances were high on getting that poor woman killed once he let the cat out, and Aiden had far too little encouragement to chase down innocent, little Carlito as he tried to escape the scene.

Thus, as he was driven to walking papers, Aiden found himself roaming the crowded parking lot. Julliette Brooke, Malcolm Walker, Marcia Hall, Brenda Bryans and Tatum Allen-- the usual society gathered near the bronze statue that stood erect in the lot's center. None of them were known offenders, none of them had any police records on display -- just your typical collection of youth, wasting their time under the maroon midnight sky. They always seemed to be occupied with either sharing or taking in the many animated stories that went around their formed circle-- waving around the burning cigarettes clamped between their fingers in ecstasy, shortly joined by half-empty bottles of cheap brand beers. It all seemed innocent enough, Brenda and Tatum being the only ones to bring out the infrequent amounts of marijuana -- the type of kush varying each time.

As Aiden passed them, they looked up for a quick second, only to rapidly return to their own business. A smile adorned the 28-year old as their voices died down the further he walked, and the greater the distance between them became. He had gathered so much information on those millennials, that they had become familiar to him-- and that without them even grasping the idea of who Aiden was. It was somewhat of an unfair trade, but so be it.

Cars raced down the streets, trapping indistinctive music behind a set of darkened windows. Random pedestrians slightly moving out of the way as they walked past Aiden, some even casting a second glance behind his back. Others mouthing soft apologies as they happened to touch his shoulder with their own-- not that he minded at all. The few that veritably apologized to him, even if that was on a subconscious level, were the most tolerable. And Aiden rather had a gentle stranger putting their hands on him, than a homespun persona with ill intents. And if he had to be completely honest, he had missed a gentle hand on his body. Or any hand for that matter, just the idea of a touch, sent a spark down the man's legs. He had taken this way too far, and his body was sending him clear, and readable signals of need.

How long had it been again? 3 years..? Perhaps an even longer period, he wasn't too sure about anything anymore. Once Damien's face popped into his mind, Aiden shook his head to rid himself of the visual image that was sure to follow. That lay dormant in the past, and with good reason too. When he refocused his eyes, he found himself standing on the opposite end of the road that ran between buildings -- and one building in particular jumped out immensely. Naturally Aiden had recognized it -- The Ambrose Theater. Formerly known as a family movie theater, later remapped into a mature-theater when profits ran painfully low, and not too long ago, bought by Blume's media department. And the fingerprints Blume left on the memories attached to that building, now lost as they were replaced by rapidly blinking neon-lights, and bare-minimum sound proofing walls that decorated a wide dance club.

The Irishman juggled the idea of pushing his own boundaries, not entirely sure how far his mind was allowed to wander, as it tried to come up with possible outcomes to him entering such an establishment. He was at his end twenties, thus not that old .. Nobody was gonna bat an eye if he were to walk in, would they? The man sucked in his thin bottom lip, as he weighed down the pros and cons-- but eventually blinked away whatever negativity probed his brain. After he barely survived the last escape from Blume's Fixers -- and with the array of insults angrily spat at his employer, Damien Brenks, failing to lift the weight of death off his shoulders -- he figured he was entitled to a moment of ecstasy. Mindless fun, or at the very least, the breakdown of many fine hairs in his ears, resulting in eventual and inevitable hear-loss at an older age. That would be one memory to look back at, and perhaps even share with possible grandchildren.

And though the idea of meeting the love of his life in a dodgy nightclub seemed more than dirty to the man, if he intended on having said grandchildren, he might as well gamble on leaving the safety found within his sleazy motel room. After all, there wasn't a single soul within that small nightclub left un-profiled once he set foot in there. He would run through the motions, robotic and self-taught behaviors of entering the perimeter, scanning the area, and bringing out his trusty profiler to run a vast area scan. And the thousands of names of faces that would light up on the small screen in his hands, would send a wave of relaxation through his veins.

God, come to think of it ..He really had issues, Jordi might be on to something.

As soon as he walked through the wine red double doors, his ears were immediately assaulted by a poor excuse for music. Was this what youth these days sat down- and listened to? There were no instruments to be found within the robotic noises, no rhythm, only bass and drops. If he were to say anything positive about the playlist, it would have been the consistency within the bass. It ran in a consistent string of increasing- and decreasing waves, that did send pleasant vibrations through his chest. Wriggling bodies moving on the dance floor, covering every crook and cranny of the area. Aiden silently made his way through the crowd, smiling happily as he spotted an empty seat near the, in fluescent-light ridden, bar. He shrugged off an invading hand here and there, not really in the mood to make eye contact.

He had his eye on the bar -- the empty bar stool, to be more precise. The music didn't seem to travel that far, and instead the bar area was treated to the murmurous residue. A young man sporting heavily stylized hair, eyed him from behind the bar -- his hands occupied with the motion of cleansing and drying off glasses. It had been a while since Aiden had been greeted by such a colorful hairstyle, but he had to hand it to the kid, deep maroon was a color that was easy on the eyes.

"Are you sure you aren't lost, gramps?"

Aiden's green eyes darted back and forth, only to land on a small shot glass that slid his way over the counter. His hand grasped the walls of the glass, and the scent of weed filled the air when a thin body sat down next to him. The man wasn't sure where to place the scent, since he hadn't been exposed to it in large quantities. Usually it wafted towards his nose as he passed random civilians on the streets, but his pace would've been too fast to get a good sniff of it. At those occasions, the scent had been mild, and tolerable. But now that it was right next to him, and stationary -- he realized just how strongly it smelled.

Instead, he brought the shot glass up to his lips, partially in an attempt to drown out the smell, and partially to get his mind off the sudden addition of 'stranger danger'. It was then that said stranger's words registered in his brain, and he furrowed his brow. "How old do you think I am?" The smaller man eyed him up and down, taking in the sight of Aiden downing the liquid in one swift gulp. His lips then curved into a mischievous grin. "It's the hat. But I do like the trench coat." He leaned in a little closer, exposing the shaggy strands of maroon blue hair covering the sides of his face, to the surrounding neon-lights.

"I have a thing for leather, you see."

\- -

It had all happened so fast, and now Aiden found himself staring at the sleeping form of a random kid. His pale skin glowing faintly under the soft rays of moonlight that seeped through the cracks of the half-opened curtains. The Irishman cursed himself for letting some random kid talk him into casual sex, but it wasn't something he could take back now, was it? As a consolation, at least the kid wasn't all too bad looking. Pale and thin, but his facial features were sharp -- giving off a certain vibe of mischief. Then again, weren't most young adults? Playful and rebellious at heart. The sex was .. good. Good being an understatement, obvious by the collection of scratch- and bite marks on the kid's back, shoulders and neck. Not to mention the deep purple imprints scattered all across the skin near his neck. Aiden had ravished this one, let himself go, giving himself over to the building lust within his heart. He wasn't aware that he had needed it that bad.. Shit, he hoped he hadn't hurt the kid during.. Though unlikely for this to be a reality, Aiden's hand traced down the young man's shoulder, where it followed the lines of those marks. The skin present felt soft to the touch.

The bathroom was messy, the toilet unkempt and filthy, but the desk area of the apartment, remarkably tidy. Aiden dried his recently washed hands on the fabric of his boxer-briefs, then found himself leaning over three display monitors. The standby lights blinking on each one of them, the computer itself humming peacefully in the background. When he turned his head to ensure the kid was still soundly asleep, he noticed a white cable running up to a small plastic container bin next to the mattress. This kid didn't even own an actual bed, instead slept on a king-sized mattress on the floor -- A plastic bin in which some clothing items were stored, used as a make-shift nightstand. Nevertheless, the cable was a USB, plugged securely into Aiden's phone. Said man gasped, and tiptoed around the cluttered mess on the floor, to snatch it from its current position. Had his phone battery died during or prior to the sex? Aiden snorted soundlessly, at the thought of his one night stand offering him to charge his phone. At least there was a bit of kindness involved.

it was only a matter of time before the computer space reclaimed his attention, and the man found himself standing in front of three monitors again. His hand nudged the mouse gently, causing all three of the monitors to spring back to life, illuminating the room with a white hue. Aiden marginally squinted at the unforeseen increase in light, but moved in closer nonetheless. Green pools roaming the contents of all three screens, his brow crushing down upon realizing what his find was exactly. ctOS data, ctOS network tracking, documentation on Blume, and .. A masked PAN modifier proxy service application. "Son of a bitch .."

Rustling of bedsheets roused Aiden from his internal revelation. "It's not nice to snoop through people's belongings, you know, Aiden?" With his fists balled, Aiden turned around to find the waking frame of his conquer. The young man ran a set of slender fingers through his dark blue eyes, a faint smile lingering on his pierced lips.

"You were the one that blocked my data-transfer."

"Correct. And in turn, you blocked mine. Fair game, I'd say."

The blue-haired individual got up from the floor, and slowly shuffled his way over to a small cool box, from which he retrieved two cans of beer -- only to throw back the one Aiden rejected upon offering. A soft 'click', and the can's cool liquid running down a hickey, bruise and bite mark ridden neck -- Aiden was rendered motionless. A mere kid managed to evade his attacks, and it took a moment for the Irishman to register this truth. Not sure whether to be impressed, or outright offended. A kid outsmarted him to some extend, and now he had slept with said enemy. He had taken the saying 'keep your enemy close' to great extremes.. His breath hitched in his throat as said enemy had closed the distance between them, and taken Aiden's large hand into his smaller one -- That ever present smirk on his freckled face. "We are well-matched."

Aiden retracted his hand, an expression of perplexity vibrant in his emerald eyes.

"How .. Do you know my name? Have I told you before we..?"

The smirk on the other hacker's face deepened, a glimmer appearing in his blue eyes. "I know how to work my way around computers and technology. Though it wasn't easy to find much on you, your name, however, wasn't that well hidden." He took another sip, making sure to run his tongue across his bottom lip in a slow pace. Aiden picked up on the motion, adding more pressure to his knuckles. "If it's a fair game, you tell me yours."

Well aware of how this game was played, he eased into his role of dominance. Gently, he wrapped an arm around the other man's slender waist, and pulled it in closer, to let them rest against his own. Still able to smell the scent of latex on the man's fingertips, Aiden brought his mouth to the man's, already assaulted neck. Biting down hard on the fragile flesh, and earned himself a pleased gasp in response.

"What name would go well with such an .. interesting exterior?"

"I like the generic sound of Jay. Though my playmates tend to call me Defalt."


	11. Memory Overwrite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been a while since I updated this one - don't worry, it's not dead - so, here it is.  
> When it's too hot to actually get the littlest of sleep, you could take advantage of that disadvantage,  
> and do a little writing on the side.
> 
> Starting september, it'll probably put a bit of a strain on regular updates,  
> since I'll be taking yet, another, class on ICT, (I love computer and tech stuff)  
> \- and it will take up a large chunk of my spare time.  
> Combine that with a household and a desperate attempt at keeping my social life intact...
> 
> But whenver possible, I'll try to make some time to write here and there.
> 
> Juggling responsibilities - Isn't adulthood great!? :D  
> Hope you guys show some understanding.
> 
> Also, I listened to this one when writing; https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e-sQMd9A2cc&ab_channel=KoreyHunt  
> Give it a listen, either while reading, or some other time - it is deffinitely worth the hairs in your ears dying.

A set of fingers danced over the surface of a LED-infested keyboard in a rapid pace. A pair of viridian eyes traced toward the corner of the, in darkness veiled, motelroom. Facing the desk area, protected and hidden under a deep layer of darkness, lay a collection of tangled and rolled-up cables. Among the clutter, were a handful of unused jumper plugs, contained in their own designated plastic containers. On a smaller table located near the entrance door, seven DIP switches were scattered over the wooden, stained leaf. He had put them aside after discovering the byte line-up didn't quite work out as intended - but the SPST contacts had still felt warm to the touch after prior exposure to UV-light. The small circuit-board had been a nothing but a means of passing time, and aside from making out ASCII characters and BASIC command-executions, there was no reason for highlight. Eight switches of 256, making up one single byte - and that wasn't even equivalent to half of a fingerprint.

  
The man shook his head, allowing a set of previously occupied fingers to run through a pair of heavy eyes. It was a means of passing time, as it should stay - yet it had consumed him completely for the last two and a half hours. It had not been what he had set out to do. Then again, very little of the motions of life had currently gone according to plan. Chicago had grown silent, a community of raindrops migrated in one smooth course. Their destination clear, the journey short and sweet - yet impactful. Gently the sound of tapping resonated and fragile water particles shattered aimlessly on either object within reach. As he moved his hand over to his phone, the battery-touched backside sent a sensation of heat through the skin making contact. How long had it been charging? Regardless, the cable was disconnected with a swift yank, and for whatever reason possible, the motion had translated to calmth wrapping itself around his overrun brain. Either digital or flesh-based, batteries held fascination. Powerful, yet so fragile at the same time.

  
The EPROM managed to still the growing restlessness raging within his core. He'd rather blind himself with exposure to UV-light, than to allow his demons to gain control. But here he was seated, at a cluttered desk, with a lifeless screen unblinkingly staring back at him. Sneakily sucking the pigment out of his pale skin, and erasing the need to engage into non-digital interactions. The cause of his exhaustion, yet rendered unable to refrain himself from crawling back. A flow of air slipped past thin carved lips, and once more the circuit-board had caught his eye. Had he checked the charge-leakage from the floating gates of the memory cell transistors? How often had he rewritten the EPROM? Write cycling had only a timely effect on the duration of accurate readability of a ROM, which proved to be an issue without proper documentation on WCs.

  
_His skin illuminated under the soft embrace of weak rays of moonlight seeping through the partially opened curtains. He had looked so fragile, so breakable, easily controlled - a willing target awaiting punnishment. A faintly freckled face pressed tightly into the pillow - slender arms wrapped around each side, more pressure applied with each fierce, incomming thrust. His attempts at muffling his needy voice, strictly in vain - and it didn't go unnoticed by either of them. The pale skin around his portruding knuckles heated up to a red color, but soon exposed to a white discoloration as pressure was continuously added to the bones. Beads of sweat had formed on the older man's brow, yet he found himself unable to release the younger man's small hips. After all, he had caught the rat in a trap. He dug his short fingernails deeper into the soft, milky skin, adding more power to the increasingly sped up act of thrusting. Jay's voice rose in pitch, his pierced brow crumpling up more intensely. He'd be damned to show a moment of weakness to the Vigilante, he'd be God dammned..._

  
_A gasp, his breath hitched, and his esophaguss clenched tightly, vocal chords pushing a strangled moan through the opening foreseen. "Aah!" For a moment in time, reality seemed to have come to a screeching halt. Aiden's movements froze into place, leaving Jay to gather his breath and composure. His darkblue shaded irises darted over his bony shoulders, only to find a frown adorning the older man's face. Had he .. shown mercy? Surely not. Aiden Pearce was set on ending his miserable excuses for an existence .. wasn't he? Silence increased in volume and mass, rules of physics no longer applied to this shit show. - He flinched._

  
_Aiden's palm felt warm to the touch - almost familiar. Kind in nature, caring in nature - what the fuck was happening? He felt his eyelids slowly lower as he eased into the docile touch, compassion, a newfound experience. "Are you okay?" The words had sounded so familiar, yet Jay denied ever finding comfort in those spoken words before. A small nod of the head, his nose grazing the imprint of the embroided pillow case, his heated skin picking up a number of fingers following the curve of his spine in repetitous rhythm. A grin curled itself around the DJ's plump, and slightly moist lips. "Do I wanna be, Pearce?"_

  
Aiden connected his forehead with the desk. This was everything he needed, and more, added to the evergrowing, neverending pile of personal conflict. And for once in a long series of time, had he caught himself in the act.

  
One question remains. The same, exact, never changing question that plagued him for the duration of his concious, adult existence - and as per usual, no amount of flesh-based interaction could serve as a means of distraction. Fingers traced the plastic casing of the DIP switches located in his direct line of sight.  
A double-check of write cycles on the EPROM was needed. Overwriting memory sounded awfully ironic at this point, but how he envied the ability.


	12. defalt connection..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if nothing much happens in recent parts,  
> I'm still trying to find a direction for this one.  
> Also, I was a bit lazy, so this part is still, very much, in .. un-edited modus.  
> I uploaded it as it was written, as with this current heat, I couldn't be bothered to rewrite. 
> 
> But I think awkward romances are adorable, and I don't mean the ones  
> where one is clumsy, the typical mary-sue, I'm innocent and cute, therefore you should love me.  
> No, I mean, legit awkward - two people that are backwards when it comes to communication  
> and expressing their feelings.
> 
> I feel like Aiden is awkward enough, to be compatible with JB.
> 
> .. I hope you are still enjoying this.  
> Listened to this while writing: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wqiTGjhr6ps&ab_channel=RizonielTV

Aiden takes sip from his drink, and looks around to find an anthill of slithering bodyparts. The large interior lit up by blinking strobe lights, flashing a series of rhythmic maroon lighting. The pattern giving birth to a uncomfortable lump of nausea in the pit of Aiden's stomach, but he keeps the sensation to himself, and brings the small shot glass back to his dry lips. The music - if that could even be considered to be a correct term - blared past his eardrums, and the deep bass sent vibrations through his entire core. The area smelled like a build-up of sweat, alcohol and cheap branded body scents. Dollar store perfumes, and knock-off brands of deodorant and cologne, making sweet love to wet armpits and foreheads. As cheap and ill-prepared as the whiskey they dared to serve at this establishment - yet the slightest of effects were valued over the urge to kick-start his bladder with the consumption of pure water. Water, the bartender would most likely retrieve from the faucet in the backside bathroom area.

Damien had remained mostly silent for the past handful of days. The lead he had given Aiden on the occupation of Chicago's east server towers, proven to be nothing more than a simple signal interception. Admittedly, DedSec had breached the server, but were also eager to erase any fingerprints once they failed to locate whatever it might have been they anticipated to find. And without a proper and worthwhile operation in mind, Jordi was left to his own devices. Not that it mattered - the man served as a mere last resort. In the event Aiden had shaken hands with lady desperation, he'd allow Jordi to catch wind of the situation and guide the situation toward deeper and unknown territories. At the current time, however, Chin seemed to be 5 zeroes deep into a freshly offered contract, and Aiden knew better than to interrupt the man's flow of creative, bullet-made juices. Horrible pun, and joke intended. He turned to cast a quick glance at the DJ booth on the second floor, the mixing table was surrounded by a collection of bright and rapidly flashing lights. Almost giving off the idea that the twitching musician experimented with edgy ways of keeping curious eyes off of his physical presence..

Hiding behind the sharp rays of white current, was a maroon in color mask, faintly sporting a dim but noticeable LED support under the plastic material out of which it consisted. The material likely hand crafted, but shaped with utmost precision, and underlying passion for the craft. A pair of polygon shaped ears poked through the altered fabric of a midnight black, zipped hoodie sporting said musician's brand - as a cleverly designed typeface spelled out 'def alt'. And Aiden couldn't help but allowing a weak smirk to tug at the corners of his mouth. _Data Exchange Format, combined with an ALT modifier key. Introducing addition of data, and structuring it under a target schedule, so said data becomes an accurate representation of the source data - recreating a false positive by reprogramming it to its original positive state .. only to be modified by ALT-based commands. A false positive, born again positive, redesigned as a false positive - and thus the cycle continues. A default computing attitude.. Yet the 'u' had been removed.. A representation that there is no singular entity within the greater picture? Remove the U from CPU, and what remains is nothing but a Central Processor.. No Unit._ Was it intended or just a mere coincidence? Perhaps Aiden looked too deep into all of it.. But clever, nonetheless.

The whiskey had become bitter on his tongue, and the room felt too musky for his taste. And to be completely honest, the Irishman had grown tired of pretending not to notice the sideway glances sent his way by the bartender. He had lost count, and lost the ability to clearly tell whether the man was attempting to steal glances at him, or whatever unholy practice was exercised behind his back. Ambrose had lost its shine, its former glory - and declined to a theatre coated in particles of hallucinogens that had missed their intended orifice. The tiled floors dirty and void of shine, much like the character and personality it once possessed. Aiden downed the remainders of the alcohol, then spun around to slither his way through and past the moving crowd. He gave the middleaged bouncer a curt nod of the head as he pushed past the large padded doors - eyes closed when the cool midnight air grazed the exposed patches of skin. Yet there was no such thing as welcomed or needed silence, the sound barrier broken by impatient groans, and vocalized laughter and playfulness veiling the crowds left to wait in line outside. Near the alleyway that led around the building, a few young adults could be found - cigarettes held between their fingers, bottles of 7/11 liquor held in unoccupied hands.

Aiden breathed out a sigh as he brought a freshly lit cigarette of his own, to his lips. He let the back of his head connect with the bricked wall he leaned against, and took a moment to take in the sounds of down-town Chicago. He was getting too old for this lifestyle, yet it was all he had known. Shattering glass reverbed with a sharp stinging sound, and soon viridian eyes scanned their surroundings, quick to locate the source. Goddamn millennials.. Particles of burnt up ash were lifted up by the gentle breeze, but Aiden's intention of trading the lively Ambrose Theatre for less crowded alleyways, was swiftly nipped in the bud by the shuffling of sneakers. Footsteps that were drawing near, wrapped up by heavy doors swinging back into place, ending the suffering of oil-deprived hinges. And the hacker was soon greeted by an all too familiar scent. A scent that clung to the majority of the Chicago-born populace.

"Remember when I asked you if you were lost?"

Aiden's brow knit together instantaneously, a slender, hoodie-clad figure positioned itself next to him, form an imitation of the older man. "It wasn't a sarcastic question aimed below the belt, you know? Because from what I've seen from the last couple of times you've come around - it does seem like you are genuinely lost, Pearce." A cigarette was introduced to a small flame, and sent into an automatic discharge of rising smoke, now left to dangle between a pair of bony fingers, encased in scarred, pale skin. Viridian pools drank in the minor defect, then sped back toward pools of shrouded maroon. "Do yourself a favor and aim that concern towards yourself." He gave a curt nod toward the bruised knuckles, and the dried up crusts of aged blood around them - stopping the owner mid cigarette-drag. The young adult eyed said markings for a moment, and Aiden's eyes shifted toward a couple stumbling along the stretch of sidewalk guiding toward the suburbs. "You got me, Fox."

"How often do you catch yourself wondering at what point in time it all went to shit?"

Jay smirked, eyes firmly closed as he relished in the gentle touch of the night's breeze.  
"I more often catch myself wondering what would've happened it things hadn't gone to shit."

Aiden's face mirrored the one next to him.  
"You still have time to right your wrongs." He shifted his eyes toward Jay's exhausted facial expression. By now it had become nothing more than a default expression.   
"How old did you say you were?"

The smirk on the DJ's face remained present and unchanged. Much like a cemented form of self defense attached to- or carved into his flesh.

"I don't remember, Pearce. The number changes according to the person. I honestly can't remember what number I could've given you."

Two burnt up cigarette butts ended up joining in their end destination - now residing on the cold concrete below their heels. Burnt up and without a purpose - useless and left to become part of the dirt.

  
Aiden had forgotten how long he had been standing outside of the Ambrose Theatre, and he knew better than to turn to the younger man for reassurance or answers. He heard his motel room calling him from afar, his tired body aching for the, somewhat, soft bed that aided him in his unconscious escape from reality. Yet he didn't dare to move. Jay stared ahead of him, neither men sure at what exactly, and neither men seemed to care. Leftover music seeped through the walls of the Ambrose, and upon the recognition of one song in particular, did Jay's mind descend back into his physical body. He shook his head with an accompanying chuckle - maroon eyes locked onto a lightly stubbled man's jaw. "Can you believe that? That guy is supposed to fill in for me - be the Defalt Decoy. Can hardly turn a knob in succession."

The Vigilante baptized man looked up and eyed the source of said disapproval for a second. It didn't take long for the man to recognize that trademark glint in a set of maroon, and he turned his body toward the smaller one. "Nothing beats the source data." A sly smirk made way for slightly parted lips, and a pair of eyes to regain their once lost innocence. He gave a nod of the head, unable to break the strong lock his eyes held on Aiden's. "A rat can multiply, but there's only one to blame for the rat king."


End file.
